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"He's right, but the IPCC is right as well, and this is why climate negotiations, where the different bits of information including about the importance of energy in development, need to be taken into account and that's also why the climate negotiations are so difficult.

The Daily To-Do List

Elisabeth
was methodical, a creature of habit. That’s what first attracted him to her;
later on it would be what pushed him away. When they first met, a lifetime ago,
she already possessed all the little quirks that initially endeared her to him.
He, in turn, was already the chaotic creature whose predisposition for
disorderliness would eventually disgust her.

The
morning after their first night together in his small student residence room on
campus, an indication of their basic lack of compatibility had been served up
like breakfast in bed on a silver platter. When he awoke, he discovered his
poor lovebird puffy-eyed and paler than usual; the visible result of a
sleepless night brought on by his smelly socks, rolled up and left nonchalantly
on the floor, like a grenade tossed over enemy lines.

To
Elisabeth, who since adolescence had been folding her dirty laundry before
putting it into the hamper, the idea of sleeping in a room that was not in
perfect order was enough to open a bottomless pit of torment and anguish which
made a descent into Pandemonium seem like a walk in the park.

Despite
this obvious difference in their personalities, or maybe because of it, the two
lovebirds quickly made it official and became a “couple”. This appeared all the
more natural, all the more inevitable to Elisabeth as she could never conceive
of “giving herself” to a man without his automatically becoming her boyfriend,
where he, on the other hand …

But
let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

After
dating and a proper engagement, the wedding was held—naturally—in the suburb
where Elisabeth was born. And, for a change, the bride-to-be asked her fiancé
to help her draw up the wedding gift registry. The marriage was celebrated in a
church, before God and man, because anything else would have been quite simply
inconceivable to her. And, despite his anticlericalism, her husband let himself
be talked into it since even then, when he truly loved her, he understood that
peace came at a price.

That
was also when he became aware of her obsession with lists. His sweetheart was
attached to this ritual in part to compensate for a faulty memory, so every
morning, as soon as she got out of bed, she would need to put a detailed list
of her daily activities up on the bulletin board, in addition to the weekly
master list she drew up every Sunday before mass.

Let’s
be clear on this point, these lists bore no resemblance to notes hastily
scribbled into an organizer, they were a comprehensive register covering every
single activity of every single day, no matter how trivial. Invariably, this
daily agenda included numerous sub-headings and started with get out of bed and
ended with go to bed. In between, there was a detailed schedule ranging
from activities as mundane as brush teeth, listed after every meal, to take
anti-anxiety medication, and included call Mom to see how she is doing,
have a thirty-three minute nap and even check daily list.

In
short, Elisabeth was one of those people who live their lives in strict
accordance with a predetermined idea of what life is supposed to be, with no
room whatsoever for spontaneity, spur-of-the-moment activities or the
unexpected, while he, on the other hand …

In
the beginning, he enjoyed teasing his Beth about her lists, the detail of which
both astonished and amused him. She never got too upset about his ribbing,
probably because at its height, love is much like a drug that masks every
problem. However, as the months and years dulled their passion, his gibes
became more cutting and his wife’s fuse grew shorter. She had never been
quick-tempered per se, but her patience was wearing thin. Especially since he
once asked her sardonically whether she pre-planned the moves she made during
their rare and passionless sex where her panting and listless sighs were meant
to express unbridled passion.

He
finally admitted to himself that at least her lists did have one definite
advantage: access to her detailed schedule on the bulletin board made planning
his own activities that much easier.

Whether
it was a Board meeting in Ottawa, a business dinner in Quebec City, a weekend
convention in Chicago, or a fishing expedition up north, all Elisabeth would do
was add to her list the little things she had to prepare for her husband before
he left. Apparently, she had no clue of the real reasons for his absences or of
the identity of the “colleagues” or “friends” he was travelling with.

But
sometimes appearances are just appearances, and about as trustworthy as a
politician’s promises on the campaign trail. Even though there were no outward
indications, Elisabeth had learned to see through the lies. Especially since
she had found the credit card receipts in the inside pocket of one of his
jackets for a stay for two in a charming New England inn, when he was
supposedly off hunting in the Laurentians.

So, one Sunday when he announced
that he was going out to his good buddy Lacaille’s outfitting operation with
some potential clients “bigwigs from across the Pond that were making a special
trip over here”, Beth didn’t bat an eye; she just added a few errands to her
list to help out her man.

That
Thursday, he woke up at dawn as usual and was a bit surprised not to find her
beside him in bed. After noticing the aroma of fresh coffee wafting upstairs
from the kitchen, he concluded that his ever-loving wife had gone down early to
help with last-minute preparations.

He
was smiling as he put on his bathrobe and headed downstairs.

As
always, he took a look at Elisabeth’s daily to-do list. Right under the entry
for coffee and croissants, there was an inventory of the household tasks
scheduled for the day, one of which was quite unusual: oil the shotgun.

“Honey,
are you downstairs?”

No
answer.

Puzzled,
he continued to run his finger down the list. It was after reading wash
kitchen walls and in the instant before he was transfixed by call police
to report husband’s death that he heard the click of the trigger.

Dorothy Charbonneau is a conference interpreter by day and an actor whenever possible. She has long been attracted to literary translation as another way to express her creativity. This is her first published literary translation.